After Texas, then there were two locked into Homestead. One stole the show at Martinsville and then attempted to deny the second his ticket. Joey Logano failed to pull it off as he wound up third. Ryan Blaney had something to showcase and he had his moments. Not enough of them, as he had to settle for second.
Bristol is not Las Vegas, Phoenix, Fort Worth or Charlotte. There are reasons to go to the Virginia-Tennessee border. The country is beautiful. On Sunday, it appears a lot of people were taking in the scenery. They sure in hell were not at the race track.
Some of the changes are interesting. Moving the season-ending event matters not, as Homestead has never become an iconic event in most minds anyway. Adding a third short track is good. Keeping the roval in Charlotte as part of the mix is fine. Adding some tradition with the Southern 500 becoming even more meaningful actually comes across as a fine idea.
Do not count your chickens before they hatch. That was the lesson we got in Dover on Sunday. A lot of things can happen between the time the egg emerges from the backside of the hen to when that little pecker bursts from the shell. A lot of bad things.
It is over. I am not just talking about my writing hibernation. It is not like I was just jumping at the bit to return, but sometimes you hear some news and you feel the need to say something, to make comment, to share your observations. Today is that day.
All we have heard all summer long is how great Kyle is at winning, how wonderful Kyle has been in making a comeback. Kyle, Kyle, Kyle. It is enough to make one channel their inner Jan Brady.
Yet, the big story was the start of the race. When would that be? The wet cold rainy weather punted both practice and qualifying, thus nobody would have any laps in their car when the green waved. None. Zip.
Talladega was sweet. That was the kind of action that captured my attention as a kid, watching Wide World of Sports. As Jim McKay so iconically put it all those years ago, “Spanning the globe to bring you the constant variety of sport... the thrill of victory... and the agony of defeat... the human drama of athletic competition.” That was Sunday at Talladega.
If only I could time travel. Going back a few days, I could have been able to pin-point exactly what one needed to do to win at Talladega on Sunday.
Rain. Sometimes rain really sucks. Outside my window, nothing but rain. In Brooklyn, Michigan, a two hours rain delay, a window for NASCAR, and with 140 miles still to go the rain returned and the racing ended. It was cold, wet, and miserable...both here and there. Just a perfect bloody Sunday.